The Multi-Billion Dollar War on Israel and the Jewish People

The Anti-Israel Propaganda Network includes the usual suspects — Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, Iran, and Qatar — but it doesn’t end there.

Palestinians are not seen as real people, but as props in a Western ideological war. (photo: Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash)

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This is a guest essay written by Toba Hellerstein, a strategic advisor specializing in psychological and sociological approaches to communication, negotiation, and public perception.

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.

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For many years, I have worked in diplomacy, intelligence, and research.

Dnd during my early professional years in Europe, I tracked global “anti-Zionist” networks. I have long been acutely aware of the threats facing Jews worldwide.

Yet, throughout my career, I carried a quiet sense of gratitude — because no matter what I witnessed, I believed that Jews were safe in the West.

That illusion shattered on October 7th.

The battle against antisemitism that I once saw as distant was now unfolding in the many Western countries. Determined to understand this shift, I set out to uncover how Westerners perceive Jews and Israel — what they believe, why they believe it, and how those beliefs are formed.

If I was going to do this, I had to do it right. That meant pursuing the gold standard of research — Institutional Review Board credentials through a university partnership for my focus groups.

But securing Institutional Review Board approval took months — not because of research hurdles, but because professor after professor refused to be involved. Eleven in total.

These weren’t just any academics. They were sociologists who had built careers studying radicalization, propaganda, and disinformation; experts in how ideas spread and take hold. Yet when it came to antisemitism, they wouldn’t touch it.

“Too political,” they said.

That was my first realization: No one actually studies propaganda. They study their opponent’s propaganda. And if you only examine the other side’s manipulation, you aren’t studying propaganda at all; you’re just reinforcing your own blind spots.

As I dug deeper, I realized the blind spots ran in both directions. Western societies has profound gaps in understanding Jews and Israel, while the Jewish community and Israel often fail to grasp how they are perceived in the West. These disconnects weren’t just intellectual; they are emotional, cultural, and deeply ingrained. Bridging these gaps became my mission.

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Like many Jews, October 7th shattered my sense of reality. Hamas’ massacre wasn’t just met with horror — among many, it was met with jubilance, justifications, and the casual dismissal of suffering. Among Gen Z and Millennial Westerners, Israel is not widely seen as a nation, but as a stain on history.

In graduate school, we studied the greatest military minds, and Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War” was a gold standard. One quote stands out when I think of Hamas’s propaganda strategy: “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”

What we are witnessing is the product of a highly funded propaganda network, which operates across many reinforcing channels. It may feel organic, grassroots, inevitable. But it’s not. It is strategy. And they’re winning. Not just shaping public opinion, but pulling even Jews into their fold.

This isn’t just distortion or misinformation. It’s a war on truth — and a collapse of the moral compass.

The Anti-Israel Propaganda Network includes the usual suspects — Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, Iran, and Qatar — but it doesn’t end there. Cynical geopolitical players like Russia and China have also entered the fray, not out of ideological alignment, but because exploiting these fractures fuels social unrest and weakens Western global influence. Destabilization serves their interests, pulling Western attention inward and away from regions they seek to dominate.

The Anti-Israel Propaganda Network floods digital spaces with viral content engineered to shape public opinion before facts even have a chance to register. Add to that the relentless push from bot farms, amplifying the message at an industrial scale.

The result? A simple, digestible narrative: Israel is the oppressor. “Palestine,” as the underdog, is naturally “the oppressed.” Crucially, they ensure no one zooms out to see Israel in the context of the broader region — where, suddenly, Israel no longer looks like the top dog.

While social media shapes public sentiment, universities perpetuate intellectual frameworks that justify anti-Israel narratives with academia steeped in identity politics and Marxist ideology.

The scale of influence is staggering. Reports, including those from the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism & Policy, have exposed billions of dollars in undisclosed funding flowing into Western universities — primarily from Qatar.

And then there is the information warfare, controlling the knowledge base. Wikipedia pages are constantly edited and manipulated to ensure that anti-Israel perspectives dominate search results. Search engine manipulation ensures that negative stories about Israel rank highest, while facts that challenge these narratives are buried. News framing is deliberate; words like “genocide” and “apartheid” appear in headlines without context, shaping perceptions before an article is even read.

Mainstream music and entertainment don’t just reflect anti-Israel sentiment — they normalize it. Hostility toward Israel isn’t framed as an opinion; it’s the default cultural backdrop. Celebrities, TikTok influencers, and public figures parrot the same talking points, not out of deep understanding, but as a form of social currency.

Much like the flappers of the 1920s or the punk rockers of the 1970s, Gen Z embraces symbols that signal counterculture, individuality, and rebellion. And today, the keffiyeh has become what the Che Guevara t-shirt was for my generation — less about the cause, more about the aesthetic of “resistance.”

“Pro-Palestinian” demonstrators are less about the cause, and more about the aesthetic of “resistance.” (photo: Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona/Unsplash)

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Like so many others, I lost friends to the tidal wave of propaganda. People I had known for years — seemingly thoughtful, intelligent people — began speaking in slogans, repeating a narrative they hadn’t lived, hadn’t studied, and didn’t fully understand. The disinformation was seamless, insidious, and powerful.

For most of my life, I worked in backchannel diplomacy and high-stakes negotiations — moving between cultures, bridging seemingly impossible divides. I lived in the Middle East, where trust was a fragile currency and emotional attunement is the only way to move past ostensible stalemate.

Diplomacy isn’t about taking words at face value. The proverbial looking glass offers endless distortions: People say one thing, but the truth is often buried in what they don’t say, in the hesitations, the omissions, the carefully chosen silences. You can’t just analyze the reflection of their words; you have to see beyond it.

That same skill — the ability to see the unseen — has served me well in antisemitism research. It’s not enough to track statements or survey opinions. To truly understand what is happening, you have to read between the lines, to decode not just what people express, but what they absorb, what they hesitate to say, and what they don’t even realize they believe.

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To be clear, “anti-Zionism” is not new to me. After all, I have lived in places where simply being who I am could get me arrested. But the breed of “anti-Zionism” spreading in the West is something entirely different.

In the Middle East, hatred toward Israel — while dangerous — is actually rooted in fear and heartbreak. Decades of state-sponsored propaganda have convinced many Arabs that Israel is an existential threat, an enemy that endangers their families and nations. The hostility they feel is visceral, shaped by narratives of devastation, however distorted they may be. I remember walking through bookstores in Damascus and Beirut, stunned by the sheer volume of literature painting Jews and Israel as demonic threats.

But in the West, “anti-Zionism” is not fueled by fear; it is driven by contempt. It is detached from personal loss and drips with moral superiority. Those chanting “From the River to the Sea” in London or New York are not fearing for their families or mourning relatives.

To Western “anti-Zionists,” Israel is not a real place with real people; it is a symbol, a scapegoat. For some, it represents colonialism, capitalism, and racism — an oppressive force to be dismantled. For others, it serves as a “progressive” rallying cry, a fashionable grievance lumped together with causes as disparate as reproductive rights, immigration, LGBTQ+ issues, and anti-police activism.

The irony is that, while Western “anti-Zionist” movements claim to stand with the so-called oppressed, “anti-Zionism” in the West is, at its core, a luxury belief held among the highly educated. I’ve come to call it “Anti-Zionist Privilege,” and once you realize it, it’s hard to unsee.

After all, it’s elite universities, not trade schools, where encampments thrive. During my focus groups, lower-income Black and Latino participants expressed little interest in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. And those who did? They had nuanced, reasonable viewpoints — opinions, not dogma.

Then there’s what I call the “Compassion Ruse.” While outrage at Israel’s policies during the war can be driven by compassion, “anti-Zionism” and the full-scale vilification of Israel are not. Research consistently shows that those who genuinely care about Palestinians also tend to care about Israelis. Because, psychologically, compassion does not compartmentalize well — unless you’re personally involved in the conflict.

In truth, Western “anti-Zionism” doesn’t just demonize Israel; it objectifies Palestinians. They are used as a symbol, providing Westerners with a moral alibi to justify their own contempt toward institutions and structures they already despise. Palestinians are not seen as real people, but as props in a Western ideological war. It’s not solidarity. It’s narcissism, wrapped in righteousness.

But beneath all of this, something deeper is happening in the West: a crisis of meaning. Traditional sources of identity — faith, family, and community — have eroded, leaving many young people searching for purpose.

In this vacuum, activism has become a substitute for belonging, offering moral clarity in an otherwise uncertain world. For Gen Z, activism is identity, moral certainty is social currency, and political stances serve as expressions of belonging to the right team in the culture war.

“Pro-Palestinian” activism has become a substitute for belonging, offering moral clarity in an otherwise uncertain world. (photo: Manny Becerra/Unsplash)

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Despite the vast resources and influence of the Anti-Israel Propaganda Network, a damaging and blatantly false perception persists: that Jewish and pro-Israel groups have a well-funded and centralized strategy to dominate global communications. This distortion skews the playing field even further. It casts Israel’s messaging as manipulative while painting the Anti-Israel Propaganda Network as grassroots and authentic.

The absurdity is staggering: Israel and Jewish organizations have barely invested in the communications war, losing the narrative battle entirely, yet are still accused of controlling the media.

In contrast, the branding strategy for Palestinians is a bit of a storytelling masterclass. It hinges on two complementary archetypes: The Innocent Victim and The Anti-Hero. Each serves a distinct purpose, appealing to different audiences and emotional triggers.

The Innocent Victim narrative evokes sympathy, framing the Palestinian people as powerless, oppressed, and in need of urgent rescue (preferably by Western saviors). This storyline tugs at the heartstrings, showing Palestinians as a people suffering under an “oppressive” Israel. Meanwhile, the Anti-Hero archetype appeals to those who resonate with anger at institutions and live vicariously through resistance and rebellion.

This branding skillfully separates the Palestinian people from their leadership, ensuring that Hamas’ actions remain shielded from scrutiny. Any criticism of Hamas is quickly deflected as an attack on the Palestinian cause itself, while both compassion-driven and anger-driven support are simultaneously harnessed.

The Anti-Hero archetype is particularly poignant, because it is more of the driver of anti-Israel vitriol. Anti-Heros have become a dominant cultural force in many Western countries, reflecting a deep disillusionment with traditional institutions. Figures who defy conventional morality are no longer seen as villains, but as necessary disruptors fighting against an irredeemable system.

Of course, who the villain is depends on who you ask. For some, it’s corporations, justifying praise for a man who shot and killed the United Healthcare CEO in New York last December. For others, it’s political elites and entrenched power structures.

This is the dangerous power of the Anti-Hero narrative: It creates moral immunity for those cast in the role, excusing even the most extreme actions as part of a “necessary fight.”

This same logic applies to Hamas: The uglier their actions, the more some view them not as atrocities, but as proof of the evil they are resisting. This is why they can abduct, rape, and torture — and still maintain support. The worse they behave, the more their defenders see them as pushed to the brink by an unjust system.

You can easily see how Israel is losing the communications war when you notice that Israel has only one archetype: The Ruler. This image — centered on stability, strength, and resilience — works well when lobbying politicians and bureaucrats for military aid or attracting foreign investment. But when it comes to public perception among younger generations, it fails.

The Ruler archetype lacks relatability and emotional connection. Crucially, it does not separate the Israeli people from their government. When people dislike Israeli policies, they conflate the government with the people, leading to broad, indiscriminate hatred toward Israelis as a whole. This failure to engage with vulnerability or humanize ordinary Israelis has been one of the most damaging communication missteps in Israel’s messaging.

At the root of this failure is something deeper — what I call “The Collective Jewish Trauma Response.” Generations of persecution have ingrained a cultural instinct toward hyper-intellectualization — prioritizing facts, logic, and action over emotions. This detachment has made the communications style cold, clinical, and unable to forge real emotional connections with broader audiences.

Compounding this is “The Echo Chamber Problem” — a communication style that speaks only to ourselves, in our own language, using our own historical references. We get trapped in “inside baseball” debates, squabbling over terminology instead of crafting narratives that actually resonate with the public.

We assume that, if we just explain things clearly enough, people will understand. But explanation is not persuasion. And don’t even get me started on the instinct to debate or “disprove” people we’re trying to persuade. When has that ever worked?

To shift public perceptions, Jewish and Israeli communications must move beyond data and policy arguments. The strategy must embrace emotional storytelling, human-centered narratives, and messaging that aligns with the psychological and cultural currents shaping modern discourse.

Because people don’t just believe what makes logical sense; they believe what feels true. And right now, our opponents are the ones making people feel anything at all.

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A version of this essay appeared in The Times of Israel.